For Marcus, life had always been fast-forward. The world around him was a blur of deadlines, competition, and endless hustle. Success, he believed, didn't have a pause button—it demanded precision, ambition, and sacrifice. Every decision he made was a step toward the next big promotion, the next shiny milestone. But as he lay in the dim stillness of the hospital room, his breath growing shallow, the noise of his achievements didn't follow him. Instead, it was the quiet regret of choices left unmade and moments lost to time that filled the air.
The first memory hit him like a wave. He was in his early thirties, eager and hungry to climb the corporate ladder. Back then, he was dating Sarah. Their love had been simple and beautiful—full of plans for the future they dreamed of building together. He could still see her smile from the night they'd met, both laughing over cheap wine, promising each other a life filled with love and possibility.
But then that Sunday happened. The phone call. The critical meeting. He could still picture Sarah in the kitchen, wearing her apron, dinner half-prepped, her eyes glowing as they planned their evening together. His own gaze had been fixed somewhere else—on his phone, on the deal, on the client who held the key to his next big break.
"I'm sorry, Sarah," he'd told her, his voice tinged with urgency. "This deal is everything."
Her face fell. She didn't fight him. "We'll be fine," she'd replied, forcing a smile. But her eyes had said something else—something that felt like goodbye.
That night had been a turning point. The deal went through; his career soared, but Sarah began to fade. A year later, she finally said what her eyes had been saying all along. "I can't do this anymore, Marcus. I need you to be here, not just for me, but with me."
The memory left a bitter taste in his mouth. He hadn't listened. He'd let her walk away, convincing himself he could have it all—just not at the same time. But she was just the first casualty in the battle he'd waged for his career.
Another memory came next, cutting even deeper. It was a few years after Sarah had left, and Marcus was at the peak of his game. His name was on magazine covers, his face well-known in boardrooms, and his life was the textbook definition of success. But the price of that success? Loneliness. Friends he once spent weekends with had stopped calling. Holidays became nothing more than days to squeeze in more work. And the worst moment came late one night, in the middle of yet another big project, when his phone buzzed with an email.
The subject line was like a punch to the chest: "Your father's funeral arrangements."
His father was gone. And Marcus hadn't been there. Months earlier, his dad had told him he wasn't feeling well, and Marcus had promised to visit "soon." But "soon" turned into "never." His father had passed away alone, and Marcus hadn't even made it to the funeral. That night, instead of mourning with his family, he'd been on a business call, ironing out the fine print on a contract.
The guilt was unbearable. If only he'd taken the time. If only he'd prioritized what truly mattered. But he hadn't. And now it was too late.
Memory after memory flooded in, each one showing him the same pattern—faces of people who had once loved him, moments that could have been cherished, relationships that could have grown. He had always told himself, "Later. There will always be time later." But now, at the end of his life, he realized that later had run out.
As Marcus's body weakened, the weight of his choices pressed down on him. He had spent his entire life chasing the next big thing, climbing higher and higher, only to find himself completely alone at the top. The silence around him was deafening.
But just before the darkness claimed him, a single thought flickered like a tiny flame in his fading mind. If I could go back, I'd change it all.